


Illegal

by draculard



Series: Pellaeon/Thrawn 30 Day Ficlets [13]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Flirting, M/M, Misunderstandings, Political Alliances, Political Parties, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26426872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Alien-human relationships are illegal on this planet.Why the Moff thinks this is necessary information for Thrawn and Pellaeon to know is rather a mystery.
Relationships: Gilad Pellaeon/Thrawn | Mitth’raw’nuruodo
Series: Pellaeon/Thrawn 30 Day Ficlets [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904581
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	Illegal

“The climate,” said Moff Nower, “is quite temperate, so I’m sure you will both be comfortable in uniform or in civilian dress. We’re in the middle of Rusalhan autumn, so it’s a little chilly at the moment, but you’re in for some beautiful sights as well on our way to the council building.”

Pellaeon eyed Thrawn, whose face was carefully set in a neutral expression as the Moff rambled on. 

“The Grand Admiral and I are accustomed to uncomfortable conditions,” Pellaeon said, interrupting Nower as politely as he could. Privately, he thought even a flagship like the _Chimaera_ was pretty damn uncomfortable compared to a destination planet like Rusalha. 

“Ah,” said Nower, his eyes tracking down Pellaeon’s uniform with thinly-veiled disdain. “Military men. Of course. Long nights under the stars and all that.”

Thrawn cast Pellaeon an amused sideways glance.

“Well, then I won’t bore you with the details,” said Nower, scrolling on his datapad. “The food on Rusalha generally aligns with the rest of the Inner Rim, favoring locally-grown fruits and vegetables, peppered meat, eggs both reptilian and avian, fluffed grains—”

Thrawn’s amused glance turned strained. 

“We’re accustomed to many different kinds of food as well,” Pellaeon put in. “Perhaps you could brief us on the _political_ side of things, instead?”

Looking only mildly affronted, the Moff turned to Thrawn as if he were the reasonable one here and said, “Culturally—”

“Politically,” Thrawn corrected him, voice mild. It had to pain Thrawn, of all people, to cut the cultural side of things short in favor of politics, but Moff Nower had been ‘briefing’ them for over an hour now and still hadn’t gotten to anything important.

“Politically,” said Nower. He took a deep breath and let it out, suddenly losing the Moff-like note of dignity and contempt in his posture. “ _Politically_ ,” he said weakly, staring at his datapad instead of at them, “well, you’re not going to like this, Admiral.”

Thrawn raised one eyebrow but didn’t reply, waiting Nower out. Beseechingly, Nower looked at Pellaeon, who did his best to convey an aura of boredom and disdain. 

“Well,” said Nower, looking away again, “Rusalha is not particularly _kind_ , Admiral, to alien-human relationships.”

There was a pause as Thrawn chewed this over.

“You believe their prejudice will be an obstacle?” he asked. “They have already invited me to the summit. Certainly that indicates at least some level of tolerance toward non-humans.”

Something shifted in Nower’s face, and suddenly he looked almost pitying. Pellaeon’s eyes narrowed at the sight of it.

“That isn’t _quite_ what I meant, Admiral,” Nower said. “I mean _relationships_. Not political relations or military alliances. The Rusalhans do not take kindly to relationships between humans and aliens.”

Perhaps sensing the confusion in the air, he glanced over his shoulder, made sure they were alone, and with a flick of his wrist gestured discreetly between Pellaeon and Thrawn. 

“We’re not—” Pellaeon choked out.

“Of course, of course, of course,” said Nower quickly, holding out his hand to Pellaeon soothingly. It was clear he didn’t believe this claim. “Of course not, Captain. I certainly didn’t mean to insinuate…. Only, you see, we must take pains to be sure the _Rusalhans_ do not see it that way.”

Thrawn looked bemused, an expression Pellaeon wasn’t sure he’d ever seen on his face before. 

“Gilad and I aren’t…” he started, sounding dazed. Pellaeon froze, startled to hear his first name on Thrawn’s lips. Then, shaking himself, Thrawn said, “Why would the Rusalhans see it that way?”

Slowly, Moff Nower raised his head. He eyed Thrawn narrowly, as if trying to figure out his angle, and then studied Pellaeon instead.

“It’s like that, is it?” he said.

Thrawn didn’t answer. Pellaeon forced himself to take a calming breath.

“Very well, keep your secrets,” said Nower. “Only make sure you keep it from the Rusalhans as well. Subtlety is the key here, gentleman. None of the nonsense we’ve seen from you in the past, yes?”

“ _Nonsense_?” Pellaeon repeated.

“The flirting, yes,” said Nower. He gestured at Thrawn. “You, Admiral, must be careful not to put your hand on the small of the captain’s back. The Rusalhans will interpret it, ah, _incorrectly_ , as a romantic gesture.”

He said _incorrectly_ with an air of indulgence. Thrawn glanced sideways at Pellaeon, this time with lines of discomfort around his eyes.

“I did not realize such a gesture was considered romantic in human culture,” he said delicately. 

Pellaeon opened his mouth, looked at Moff Nower (who was definitely listening in) and then shrugged. “I don’t even remember you doing that, sir,” he said.

Which was, of course, a total lie. It had been at an Ascension Week party last year. Neither of them had wanted to attend, and Pellaeon had coped by drinking what amounted to perhaps more than an entire bottle of Corellian red; he’d stumbled on his way past the table and Thrawn had steadied him, his hand a solid, comforting weight on the small of Pellaeon’s back. Which was a totally reasonable platonic thing for one officer to remember about another.

He cleared his throat and caught Thrawn looking quickly away from him.

“I think we’ll be able to abstain to your satisfaction,” said Pellaeon to the Moff. Nower’s eyes flicked up to him, eyeing the heat on Pellaeon’s cheeks. Then he looked over at Thrawn and must have seen something similarly damning, because he only shook his head.

“Of course, Captain,” he said wearily. “I’m sure.”


End file.
